The Lone Summoner
by Count D'Ainiac
Summary: There was another Summoner on a pilgramige at the same time as Yuna. This one was alone, a warrior with a troubled past. Will he be a hero or be swept up in the corruption of Yevon's teachings? OC, content rating subject to change.
1. Kilika After Sin

Oh hey. This is a new story, with me a much older and wiser and more dedicated writer. Here's hoping you enjoy, I won't explain much now, you'll find out what its all about. Bit more info at the bottom. Oh yeah. I don't own this. Except the guy whose name you don't recognise. Yeah :)

* * *

_Rage, pain and suffering. And the Calm Lands burned._

* * *

The silence began after the storm. The sound of small waves lapping up against broken wood pierced the blackness of his mind, along with the sounds of the gulls overhead. He slowly found his way back into consciousness, his mental faculties very slowly returning, seeming to be fighting against an opposite will. As he opened his eyes, the emotion that first came to him was fear. Looking down, all he could see were wooden planks. He tasted salt water. He smelt death, and he didn't know why. He could feel something inside his head, clouding him. Yet it was even now starting to fade. He was strong. The powers of even the toxin of Sin were no match for such a mind...such a strange, unexplainable mind. He spluttered as a wave came too far and filled his mouth and nostrils with fluid. He rose groggily, not able to get to his feet at first, but just trying to raise his head above the level of water. He took a cursory look around at what remained of Kilika. Needless to say, it wasn't much. It wasn't much at all.

"Oh Yevon above..." His voice was weak, croaking, and even as it came out of his mouth he regretted using it, his throat clenching, resisting the effort. What was left was a sea of floating wood, foliage, objects and bodies. He himself sat on a small pile of wood, stranded on a sandbank that had perhaps been created by the sheer natural forces at work as the leviathan had attacked; a small island of wreckage of his very own. Sea surrounded him where there once would have been houses, shops and people. Living people... His eyes started to sting, though now his eyes were producing their own salt water as tears crept down his face. Then he remembered. He remembered it all. The horror, the chaos, the screams, oh the screams...All while the deadly sunset glowed. The sky seemingly red with the blood of the fallen.

He looked around where he was seemingly stranded. There were more bodies here. Dozens of bodies, strewn like flotsam and jetsam amongst the remains of the port. That's all it was the town was now. Flotsam created in Sin's wake. Anger, despair, along with hundreds of other conflicting emotions flowed through him at this realisation, making him want to scream, to destroy. No, no, he would not allow himself to think those thoughts. Destruction would not breed destruction; it was a cycle he knew all too well. Though Sin...as he recovered his own identity from the clutches of the toxin, he knew that a path of destruction lay ahead of him. It would be Sin that would be destroyed at his hand, for the people of Spira. That was the path he had chosen. He remembered.

"Hey, you okay brudda?" The voice came from behind him, causing him to spin around. He saw a man dressed in something familiar (is that the Besaid Aurochs kit?) waving to him from a pier that had somehow escaped Sin's wrath. The man was dark skinned, yet had short blonde hair. White paint made into patterns covered his face and upper body. A look of concern was etched on his face, his eyes those of a man who had just witnessed Sin's destructive abilities. A look he knew all too well. He could not speak again to reply, the strength did not remain in him, and he could only give a little cursory wave back. This was before he collapsed again forward as the pain that had been dulled by shock hit him with immeasurable force, and he blacked out again.

* * *

He woke up this time under a blanket, with a pillow supporting his head. He yawned, and then memory and pain in a combined assault hit him like a brick wall. He cried out, and he heard a startled "oh!" to his left. Footsteps came towards him, and on reflex he pulled the blanket over himself, even though he knew there was no reason for protection. Fear was a powerful motivator, even when it lingered. He opened his eyes to see a figure crouching over him. It was a young woman, with soft brown hair and shining, sad yet caring eyes. She was pretty, yet he was distracted by that only for a second, instead being more interested in her garb. That was no ordinary clothing; that was the clothing of a Summoner, he was sure.

"Are you okay? I healed you, but there might be some lasting pains...forgive me. My name is Yuna, from the Isle of Besaid, what's yours?" Yuna? He knew that name. He was sure he did. Ignoring the pain that resounded seemingly in his right leg worst of all, he reached into his aching mind.

"My deepest gratitude ma'am, I'm truly grateful for your care and attention. My name is Matza, I am a native Kilikian, and I am a Summoner. A Summoner who was not prepared for Sin so early in his journey." He chuckled, despite the sadness and pain. Laughter was a soothing tonic.

"Oh! I am a Summoner too! I too am early in my pilgrimage". That was it, something in his mind clicked. He knew he knew that name. He had heard it many times before, overheard in conversations, and in his own talks with the monks at the Kilika temple.

"Wait, erm, pardon me for being so intrusive, but would you by any chance be the daughter of High Summoner Braska?"

"Yes, yes I am." He was surprised to see a little twinge of disappointment in the woman's face, and he realised what he has said. It must be tough having a famous father.

"Well, it is an extraordinary pleasure to meet you, not least to be healed by you, and the honour would be the same if your father was not Lord Braska." He smiled, and was a met by a smile in return. He was glad. He didn't want to offend anyone he owed something to, or another Summoner for that matter. Unless they deserved it of course, but Matza felt that Yuna didn't. There was something immediately apparent in her, a kindness that seemed to be all too rare nowadays. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "The dead! They must be sent!" He choked, as he tried to scramble to his feet. However, his leg went from under him, and he crumpled in a heap back to the floor, eliciting a gasp from Yuna. "Ow...dammit."

"You needn't worry, I have already performed the sending. I'm sorry if you wanted to help..." She added as Matza groaned softly. Yet he shook his head, and forced a smile.

"It is fine, I am glad someone has done it. I would not wish for my former neighbours to become fiends. They...did not deserve that. Nobody does, of course." Yuna nodded, as Matza returned under his blanket. Every move he made caused him to wince slightly. He must have broken his leg in the chaos, yet he had no memory of the attack itself. Those sorts of memories tend to get repressed, he found. It was similar to those other times when he'd found he could not remember...what he'd done. He sighed.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady Yuna, I shall sleep till the morning. Then, hopefully some of the pain will go away."

"Of course, I'm sorry. Do you need another cure spell?" Matza chuckled, causing Yuna to look curiously at him.

"There is really no need to apologise. You are at no fault. Only one thing is. As for the cure spell, I'm fine; do not waste anymore of your magic on me when there are still those that need it. I wish I could help, but I can barely heal myself. I should apologize for that." He cursed his own weakness at this time. He was a Summoner, he was meant to be a pillar of strength. He should be helping the wounded...sending the dead. He shouldn't have been leaving it all to this young girl, who should not have to deal with so much by herself. He swore gently under his breath as another stab of pain ran up his leg. Obviously he was not quiet enough, for Yuna blushed slightly and put her hand to her mouth as she stood up. Though there was a twinkle in her eyes that Matza was glad to see. She wasn't a prudish Yevonite then, something that, although he was a following of the teachings himself, he hated. Prudishness was truly a destroyer of a wholesome sort of fun, one of the only things that the people of Spira had; it shouldn't be infringed upon.

"Well, goodnight. I hope you feel less pain in the morning."

"Thank you, Lady Yuna. Thank you for doing my job when I could not. I will always be grateful for that." With that, Matza drained all the magic he felt he had at the time, and used it to cast a cure spell on himself, helping to numb the pain in his leg, and with that he was able to drift off to an admittedly troubled sleep.

It was not long before Yuna's curious gaze returned to the now sleeping Matza. Immediately something about him struck the girl as wrong somehow. For one, he seemed old to be a Summoner; he must have been almost forty, judging by his weathered, rugged face, his chin covered in dark stubble. His hair was almost completely silver, with only some streaks of jet black, but whether that was his natural colour Yuna did not know. He was also a surprisingly large man for a Summoner, tall and muscular. Also, if he was a Summoner, where were his guardians? Had they been amongst the dead? He had not seemed concerned for any others...It was puzzling. The young Summoner sighed, driving it out of her mind. She had much more work to do without these thoughts distracting her. With that, she went back to doing what she could for the other wounded.

* * *

When morning came, so did the realisation that everything that had happened the day before, hadn't been just a dream. Matza sat on the edge of one of the few remaining boardwalks, legs dangling over the side. His ripped and torn clothes had been replaced, and he was now wearing loose fitting blue pants and a clean white wife beater. The top was a little tight, but he'd taken the first things he could find. Now was not a time to be picky. Luckily, somehow, his hardened boots had survived. They would have been a greater loss, as would have been his weapons. However, some early morning scavenging, possible now that his leg only sporadically experienced spasms, proved extremely successful. Buried underneath some rubble, he found what he, when he woke up, was terrified at the thought of losing. Strapped to his back was a substantial seven-point Shuriken, each point a wicked double-edged blade, curved and sharp. Another single blade was attached to his left forearm with more leather strapping. Of course, he also had his Summoner's staff, once again strapped to him but this time on the outside of his right leg and hip. Its shaft was metal painted white, and the symbol of Kilika in red sat on top of the shaft. He liked all his weapons, but had to admit he probably wouldn't have the staff if it wasn't for Yevon's traditions. Then again, he was never one for traditions, despite his beliefs. It was why he had alienated some of the monks at the temple in Kilika, but many understood him. The latter were often the ones that knew his story.

Footsteps, familiar sounding footsteps accompanied by ones he did not recognise, made Matza turn his head slightly to look behind him. There he saw the familiar face of his fellow Summoner he met last night, the Lady Yuna, accompanied by a dark-haired woman in a fur-lined black dress that exposed her shoulders, and a blue-furred Ronso warrior with a broken horn. Matza jumped up to his feet, and was revealed to find that his leg did little to complain. He smiled a tired smile, his despair now turned into solemn acceptance. This was Spira after all. You knew that Sin would attack. You couldn't let it destroy your emotions; a solemn sadness was enough. Or at least, that was what he thought. It was their punishment after all; they had to learn to accept it.

"Ah, the Lady Summoner. An honour it is again, and once again I have to express my gratitude for helping me last night. Well, if I don't, my leg certainly does." Yuna smiled, and returned the prayer that Matza had been giving whilst he was talking.

"It was really no worry. I hoped I did all I could."

"You definitely did, you did some of what should have been my share after all. It does annoy me that I was 'indisposed'...I owe a lot to this place. These are your Guardians, I take it?" He questioned, changing tack quickly, away from the topic of himself.

"Oh, yes. This is Lulu," the dark-haired woman nodded a greeting, "and Kimahri." The Ronso remained unreadable and stoic. Matza was not surprised. Many of the Ronso he had met had been the same. They were generally a very dignified race, well, apart from those two lunkheads he had met once. "I have others with me, but one of them is still helping around, and another is still asleep." Matza noted that the other woman turned quickly towards the Summoner, the look on her face a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "Pardon me for asking...but where are your Guardians?" Yuna was even more curious after Matza met the question with a soft chuckle.

"I must reveal that I am a bit of a curiosity in that department. You see," he said, indicating his clearly deadly weapons, eliciting a gasp from Yuna, "I am my own Guardian." He could now see clearly the puzzlement his statement had caused in Yuna, and even the woman called Lulu raised an eyebrow interestedly.

"But...isn't it in the teachings of Yevon that every Summoner must have at least one Guardian? Are you allowed to be a Summoner without a Guardian?" Matza frowned at the girl's question.

"Those affiliated with Yevon I have talked to have been split on the matter. Some have told me that I must continue in my duties, others have said that I must stop until I find a Guardian. The truth is..." he paused a minute, searching for the right words. "I take it, Lady Summoner, that you trust each of your Guardians with your life, that you feel a bond with them." Yuna nodded in agreement. "Well, it just happens that I have no-one to trust. The only hands I feel my life should be in are my own. I cannot explain to you why that is, it's complicated. Suffice to say that I would push away anyone who tries to get close to me anyway. That leaves me in no position to find a suitable Guardian, and I know how to defend myself anyway. These things," he said, indicating the Shuriken and Armblade, "aren't just for show. Honestly, I see no reason why I need a Guardian. I don't see why I should risk the lives of others needlessly, unless I feel they have a bond with me, and then it is less needless. Such a person, however, I have yet to find. I soldier on alone; it is 'no big deal'." Matza sighed, trying not to get lost in his own memories as he was prone to do. He was in company after all.

"I'm sure you will find someone," said Yuna, in a caring tone that somehow made him believe her, "and then both you and Yevon will be happy." She smiled, and Matza was reminded how young she was. She could have been his daughter. A daughter...that's what they could have had. No! He shook himself out of his thoughts, and smiled in return.

"You go to the temple of Kilika to pray to the fayth?" She nodded in conformation. "Well, I wish you luck. I must head to where you have just come. I shall maybe see you on the road sometime. I take it you will be at the Blitzball tournament? It IS for Maester Mika's 50th anniversary as Grand Maester after all."

"Of course! Some of my friends will be playing for the Besaid Aurochs too!"

"Excellent! I hope they do better this year then. Though, I must warn you, they will be no match for the Kilika Beasts!" Both of them laughed, once again, thought Matza as he did, showing the power of Blitzball as an agent with which to forget about the problems of the world. "For now, though, I say farewell. Now!" Matza ripped his staff out of the straps on his leg, and pointed it to the sky. For a second, the heavens seemed to fill with a fiery light, before something too bright to look at burst from the flames. It flew straight towards them, forcing Yuna and her Guardians to shield their eyes. Yet Matza raised his arms to the sky, and welcomed it. Something landed with a quiet thud and a flapping of wings on the boardwalk, and the people around all gasped or stared in wonder as the light reduced. There was a large bird, not a fiend; it seemed too regal for that, but something else. Its plumage was red, gold and yellow, the colours of a glowing fire and the sunset. It was large, but with a fairly small head and neck. It wore a crown of feathers on its head, and there was an air of serene calm about it.

"What...what is that?" he heard the younger Summoner's voice as he jumped up onto the great firebird's back. "Is than an Aeon?"

"It is, it is!" He shouted, energy now flowing through him after the summoning. "It's what I got after praying at Kilika temple! Others only seem to gain the ability to summon Ifrit, the fire-demon Aeon, but something was obviously different about me! The monks were certainly surprised." His eyes softened as he stroked the feathers on the back of the creature's neck. "I call it Pheonix," he said softly, "and I and she will see you soon!"

With that, the Aeon flapped its fiery wings, and took off into the air, leaving behind the destroyed port town, as it flew towards Besaid, and the next stop of Matza's lone pilgrimage. Sin's attack had almost stopped him, and, as he sat there, focusing on retaining the summoning till he arrived, he vowed to himself that nothing would get in his way of wreaking his revenge on Sin. It was time the events of ten years ago were completed. He must finish what was started all that time ago. He owed that to himself. To her.

* * *

So thats the first chapter! Obviously a bit OC-centric, but don't worry, lots more familiar faces will be in future chapters. This is the atypical set-up chapter. Tell me what you think if you have the time, constructive criticism just makes me a better writer!


	2. Besaid

Well, this is owned by Square-Enix. But then, you knew that, didn't you?

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_Fire swept out from around him, a storm of flames. They would not escape. They would not SURVIVE!_

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Dust flew up and the Palm Trees swayed as Pheonix swept down onto the cliffs of Besaid. Matza swung himself off the back of his Aeon, and then dismissed it, making the firebird take off and fly high into the sky and out of sight. Matza took a minute to compose himself, to feel solid ground under his feet, before walking over to the cliff and looking down. He had a good view of Besaid beach from here, having landed down on the Northern side of the island. He could have easily flown straight into the small town, but hadn't for two reasons. One, he didn't want to have the hassle of being surrounded once it was made obvious by his Aeon that he was a Summoner, not mentioning the fact it was not an Aeon that had a lot of notoriety. He didn't want to have to answer questions that he didn't know the answer to, for even he didn't quite know how he had ended up with the ability to summon Pheonix. He had some theories of course, but no proof. He didn't have the time to explore them further, so he just accepted it. The second reason why he had chosen to land at this point was because he wanted to make sure there were no lasting after effects of Sin's attack on his body; the best way to find this out was to take care of some Fiends. This would be a perfect warm up at the start of his pilgrimage proper. He smiled, feeling the Shuriken on his back, making sure it was ready to be used. Knowing that, he set off south down the path. He would maybe have been hesitant of doing this anywhere else with such little armour, but he remembered the Fiends of Besaid being weak, probably due to the small population of the Island not serving as the ideal spawning ground for powerful beasts. He could ease into fighting again, and hopefully get some better equipment when he arrived at the Island's main town. The walk would only take a couple of hours, he reckoned, maybe adding on an extra half-hour if Fiend activity was high. That left him time to get outfitted before nightfall, get something to eat and then go to the Temple. He had no idea how long it would take him, but he was prepared to sacrifice some sleep. He had slept enough in Kilika. After all, what was that saying he always thought of in these times. "Sleep when you're dead." He chuckled, and continued on, looking forward to the exercise.

It didn't take long before he had to stretch his legs. This was when he jumped back following a dive by a Condor that he was able to evade. Smiling, he grabbed his Shuriken from his back and threw it through the air towards the Condor. His aim was true, as ever, and the Condor was no match for the spinning blades. He caught the weapon as it spun back, and spun round to deliver a fatal blow to the neck of a Dingo that had pounced behind him with his Armblade. Now that both his weapons had been painted red with blood, he started to feel the adrenaline return. His leg, which had been aching slightly, now felt as fine as it had ten years ago even. The rush of battle was his drug, his maintainer. Even the flying Condor's could not evade him now, as his speed started to increase. Two felt the sting of his Armblade and another was taken down by a fire spell. Magic was also at his command, which was helpful when a Water Flan appeared from the undergrowth lining the cliff. Matza was knocked back slightly towards the edge of the cliff by a water spell, but it was not enough to hurt him. The Flan, however, was no match for a thunder spell that crashed into it as Matza pointed towards it. It exploded into pyreflies, and the cries of attacking Fiends that had filled the air for what was only two minutes at most faded from his ears, as quiet returned except for the sound of a slight breeze rustling the plants, and the sound of trickling water. This turned into the sound of rushing water as he crossed a bridge over a waterfall. He had to admit, Besaid was as tranquil as any place on Spira could hope to be. There would always be Fiends, that's just how the world worked. He took a minute to take in the scenery. After all, perhaps he'd never see it again. He hoped that this was what the Farplane was like. Not the 'Farplane' in Guadosalam, but the true Farplane, where souls went to rest. It was his hope in this, he thought, that kept him from fear of death; its what allowed him to keep to the Summoner's path. Though, what had driven him to it in the first place would maybe be incentive enough, though he was glad he didn't have to find out and thus find something vital out about himself.

He was suddenly snapped out of his own thoughts by the sound of flapping wings. This didn't sound like a Condor, it was too loud. As he progressed further south down the path, he broke out into a run, his curiosity driving him on. He skidded to a halt as he rounded a corner and saw what was making the noise.

"Holy..." he breathed, surprised at what he saw before him. A gigantic bird Fiend was flying on the spot over the path, almost like it had been waiting for him. It was beige, except for the undersides of its wings and tail, as well as its chest, which were a deep red. Its neck was long and reptilian, and it had a great mouth instead of a beak. It was quite a sight to behold, and would have had many civilians fleeing in terror. Matza was made of sterner stuff, but was also shocked to see such a powerful looking Fiend on Besaid. He gritted his teeth as the Garuda saw him, and screeched loudly. It flapped towards him slowly, and attempted to head butt the seasoned Summoner. Matza had other ideas however, and rolled to the left, meaning the beast hit only ground. This only served to anger it further, and it reared back, before flapping its wings powerfully at him, which created a sufficient gust to knock Matza back and to the ground. Recovering quickly, Matza jumped to his feet well for a large man, and threw his Shuriken hard. It carved into the Fiend's left wing, creating a sizeable wound. Matza jumped forward, following his weapon, and smashed his boot into the bird's head, whilst grabbing the Shuriken. As he did so, the pain in his leg flared up again, causing him to cry out and drop to the floor. He cursed under his breath, knowing that his lack of practice was making this fight, even against a relatively strong Fiend, more difficult than it should have been. The Garuda swooped but was knocked back by a water spell, giving Matza enough time to get to his feet, his breathing now heavy. He was already getting tired. Dammit. He really didn't want to summon, not now. Yet the combination of a strong enemy and his own condition was proving to be formidable. It wasn't helped by being knocked back by one of the creature's wings, sending him crashing into the cliff face. He sat there for a second, spitting out blood. He wasn't very protected thanks to his lack of armour, and it seemed his arrogance had come back to haunt him. He needed something to go his way now, though knowing his life that was unlikely.

That last thought was what caused him to leap up in surprise when the Garuda roared in pain. Matza saw another figure on the path, holding their hand up; seemingly due to the blizzard spell they had cast to cause the Fiend's anguish.

"Hey, need some help?" They shouted over the noise of the Garuda. Matza saw that the figure was a man in red body armour, and blue shoulder armour with steel shoulder plates on the outside. White shorts with blue lining, long red socks leading into black shoes, and an armour facemask behind which was a mop of shaggy brown hair completed his outfit. Matza recognised the garb straight away, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Crusader..." he muttered. He, against his better judgement, nodded to the man. He grabbed his Shuriken from the ground next to him, and crouched in a battle stance. He saw the crusader draw a sword and do the same. Matza waited for a second, and then signalled. They both attacked at the same time, Matza getting there first thanks to his closer proximity. He leapt and slashed the creature's face with his Shuriken, eliciting another shriek. As he landed, the other man jumped and stabbed the beast in his chest, creating an oozing wound as he withdrew the sword, and he continued to lacerate the Garuda's underbelly. Matza, more heartened now, attacked again, holstering his Shuriken and thrusting with his Armblade. He managed to hit his target, getting the beast right in the eye. The Fiend attempted to fight back, aiming a talon at the Crusader, but thanks to its impaired vision was inaccurate and the man only had to sway to one side to avoid it.

"Nice work!"

"Well, when you can't cast darkness, you have to improvise!" Replied Matza as he stepped back and threw his Shuriken at the beast's neck. It impaled itself there, and Matza could immediately see the bird weakening. It had lost a lot of blood, and now it had a potentially mortal wound. Matza was fully prepared to turn this potential into actuality. "Get out from under there! It's gonna hit the ground hard!" Matza felt magic flow through him, and chuckled. "To the Farplane with you!" With that, he focused on his Shuriken, and cast Thunder on the weapon. The metal conducted the spell perfectly, and sent the electricity right through the spine of the creature, up and down, drying its body and brain. It flapped one last time, before crashing unceremoniously to the ground and dissolving into a cloud of pyreflies that floated momentarily and were gone. Another soul laid to rest.

Matza crouched down, collecting his Shuriken and returning it to his back, as the other man approached him. "That was impressive, once I came into help." The man's mouth, visible unlike his eyes that were hidden by the mask, formed a smirk at his own comment. "The name's Beclem, a Crusader, as you can probably guess. You are?"

"Matza. Summoner." He saw the smirk on Beclem's face turn into one of contempt.

"Oh, a Summoner. I almost regret saving you now I know you're a Yevonite." Matza could hear the distaste in the man's voice, and it didn't sit well with him. The Crusaders really had the moral high ground on Yevon...yeah right.

"Be that as it may, you did help me. Not save, help. Note that down before you go around claiming you saved the life of a Summoner." Beclem laughed at that.

"I would never claim such a thing. It feels bad to know I even have saved a Summoner. Yet you don't fight like a Summoner. You sure you are?"

"As sure as you're a glorified brick in a wall against Sin." Beclem cursed him at that comment, but he ignored it. "When you're your own Guardian, you have to know how to fight."

"A Summoner who guards himself eh? Very interesting. What is it, you a bit of a lone wolf? Or does nobody care about you sufficiently enough to guard you?" mused the Crusader, and Matza was possessed by a sudden urge to hit him across the face, facemask or no. The worry thing was that he knew there was an element of truth to his words.

"Even more interesting is a Crusader out here on the road, noticeably without a Besaid accent. Why are YOU here?" Beclem chuckled, infuriating Matza further.

"Top secret I'm afraid. Part of a Crusader operation you don't need to know anything about. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a boat leaving for Luca in the morning that I need to protect till it sets off." With that, the man walked brusquely past, and Matza had no inclination to call after him. He was sure he could find a better use for his time, such as getting to Besaid on schedule. However, he was interested to hear about this boat. He made a mental note to be on it. He didn't fancy the effort it would take to maintain Pheonix over such a long distance at this particular point in time, not if he could help it. He reckoned that should the boat leave in the morning, it should arrive just before the tournament in Luca started, and he was not missing that, not when it was celebrating such an occasion.

The rest of the journey was fairly uneventful. After having enough energy for a cure spell, which healed his wounds and also the pain in his leg (he wondered if that would keep coming back), the remaining Fiends that got in his way were easily dealt with. He arrived as the Sun was halfway between its highest point and setting, and looked over the town. It was mostly as he remembered it. He wasn't sure if Sin had attacked since his last visit over ten years ago, but it didn't seem so. Most of that period had been Calm, so that made sense. The layout of half huts, half tents was pretty much the same as before. It barely qualified as a town, as the Temple at the very south of the town dwarfed everything else. It was truly an impressive structure considering the rest of the Island. But, he would delay heading there for now. He knew that Besaid was renowned for its Tailors, and he felt he could replace his now ripped vest, and maybe he could pick up at least some light armour.

An hour later, and after some visits to a few of the vendors of the Island town, Matza felt a lot better. The blue pants and his boots remained, but they were now complimented by a sleeveless blue vest and some thin metal armour on his torso. He also had bought a tight-fitting red coat that he left open, and had cut off the sleeve at the left elbow for his armblade. He had also bought a bracer that was now on his right forearm. He was now much more prepared for continuing on. A brief meal sated his hunger, before he walked up towards the temple. As he walked into the sacred building, he was greeted by one of the monks. Both made the prayer, before the monk scuttled off, leaving Matza to his own devices. The Summoner paused for a moment, clearing his thoughts, the hymn of the Fayth calming him. He loved the temples. Yevon truly was the only calming aspect of his life. Without it, well, he wasn't sure where he'd be. He truly pitied those that did not follow. That being said, he thought, he had to bend one of Yevon's teachings to get to the Chamber of the Fayth. Once again, the fact he had no guardians would only make things more complicated. Or at least, that's what he had thought.

He was therefore surprised when the Head Monk greeted him with a smile as he walked towards the steps leading to the Cloister of Trials.

"Would you be Summoner Matza, by any chance?" Matza jolted to a halt, initially confused before nodding his head warily.

"How do you know?" the monk chuckled, obviously amused at the expression on the man's face.

"You match a description given by a monk from Kilika that recently visited. Yes, he told me all about you. A very interesting case...sorry if that sounds impersonal. I am truly sorry for what has happened to you. "

"Hm." Matza didn't want to get onto this subject. "So nobody's going to call me a heathen if I enter the trials?"

"No, if anything, we admire what you're trying to do. You are a follower of Yevon, and you want what every person in Spira wants, the next Calm. We have no right to stop you. Besides," the Monk smiled again, "I'm sure you'll find a Guardian on your travels." Matza noted that it seemed he was hearing that a lot recently. He decided not to reply, only to offer the prayer again, and continue up the stairs towards the Cloister. He hated these damn things. However, they were a necessary task, making sure that not everyone could get to the Fayth. Like many of the instruments of Yevon, it was sometimes annoying, but had significance. Or at least, that's what he reassured to himself was true anyway.

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A few points, in case you're interested. Woo, Beclem! Will he ever turn up again? Maybe. Not sure if I've got him completely right, haven't played X-2 for a while. Probably not. Ah well. Also, I know Luzzu and Gatta don't have Besaid accents. But then, the game isn't very consistent on that. Isn't Lulu from besaid? Why does she have a normal accent? Sorry for any other continuity errors, I do try and keep it as much in continuity as possible, varying for dramatic purpose of this story, of course. :)


	3. All At Sea

Still don't own any of Square-Enix's lovely characters. BTW, there are a couple of instances of strong language in this chapter, just FYI. Enjoy!

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_Three figures walk up to him as he falls onto his hands and his knees._

"_DON'T TOUCH ME! I AM A BRINGER OF ONLY DEATH! DON'T TOUCH ME!"_

_

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_

As he stepped onto the S.S. Cosmo, the only thought in Matza's mind was something to eat followed by a nice nap. His night hadn't exactly been perfect. The combined time spent in the Cloister of Trials and then praying to the Fayth had meant it was already the next day when he had emerged, drained, from the temple. The fact he had been successful wasn't an issue to him, he hadn't expected not to have been. Yet it had taken him longer than he'd thought. Wasn't this meant to get easier? Perhaps the length of time could again be contributed to his own lack of mental focus. He couldn't help it, but his mind kept returning to what was still only two days ago. You didn't recover from that quickly.

After his mental exertions, he only had time for a quick nap in the Crusader's lodge (it had made him feel slightly dirty inside and hypocritical, but damn if he wasn't tired enough not to care) before having to get up and make the walk back to the docks. Needless to say he wasn't in the best of moods. His hunger, exhaustion and the ache in his leg still flaring up every so often combined to add to his grumbling.

His mood wasn't improved when he saw Beclem walking past, his mask still on, conducting business with four other crusaders as they strolled across the deck. The crusader flashed him a disdainful look before returning to a whispered conversation with some of his colleagues. Matza remembered that Beclem had mentioned a top secret Crusader operation, and his curiosity, he must admit, had been piqued. What were they up to? He guessed, if it was major, he would find out soon enough.

As for now though, he weaved through the rest of the people that were boarding the ship, and those who had already been on board. The sun was high by now and temperatures had begun to rise, and Matza really wanted to avoid a case of heatstroke. There had to be no more delays on his pilgrimage now if he was going to fulfil his duty as a Summoner. For now though, he had to fulfil his own duty to his body by giving it some sustenance and rest. He made his way down inside and made his way to the cafeteria. A quick meal sated his hunger, and he then had seconds just for good measure. Then he found himself a cabin. Shutting himself in, he ripped off his clothing on his upper body so that he was only wearing his pants and boots, before sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor, feeling too tired even to reach the bed.

He was so very tired, but glad to be out of the heat. For early morning it had been sweltering on his walk to the beach. This was the time of the year he hated, when it was sunny and hot all the time, especially in the south. He wasn't used to it. He wasn't a native of these southern Islands, despite his residence in Kilika before starting his pilgrimage. He was born and raised in Bevelle of course...

He must have dozed off, sitting there, because you can't be woken up if not asleep. As it was, his slumber was broken by a cacophony of shouting from outside his cabin. He spluttered slightly, wondering what on Spira could be causing it. It turned out he would get an answer rather quickly.

"SINSPAWN!" the shout rose above the other screams and cries of panic. Matza, shocked, leapt to his feet, throwing on his shirt and armour as he did so, and jumped out through the door of his cabin. He was almost immediately knocked over by the people running past him, fleeing down inside the ship, away from where he figured the danger lay. Matza sighed, as he realised that he wasn't going to get any sleep. Quickly returning to his room to pick up his Shuriken, he figured he could afford to leave behind his Armblade. Once he had grabbed his primary weapon, he sprinted in the opposite direction to where the people were running, jumping up the stairs three at a time and bursting out onto the deck and into the sea air and the heat. He couldn't see anything at first except the few stragglers slipping and sliding as they scrambled for the inside of the ship. There were however several strange noises coming from the other side of the deck which he couldn't see as well as the shouts of men. He even recognised Beclem's authoritative voice over the top of everything else, though he couldn't make out exactly what he was saying. Matza made his way quickly as he could around to the front of the boat, but screeched to a halt when he saw what the strange noises were emanating from. It was a horrible creature, several feet high, a mound of flesh with a giant tentacle-surrounded mouth at the centre. It gargled horribly as it scuttled left and right on the deck, leaving a trail of slime wherever it had been, its crawling legs not fully lifting its body off the ground. Matza knew that somehow, even without visible eyes, it was surveying the group of slightly panicking crusaders that had assembled before it. Something this horrible could only have been Sinspawn, Matza had seen enough of them over his almost forty years to recognise it clearly, for the foul stench of decay if nothing else.

Matza stood just behind the group of crusaders who he had seen before, Beclem amongst them. Their weapons were drawn, and they looked ready for a fight even though there was doubt on a couple of their faces. They were shouting at one another, seemingly blaming themselves for some error. Matza whistled, catching their attention. "Hey! You guys going to take this thing down or what?" Beclem nodded, and held his arm back. He looked stern under his mask, and seemed calmer than his colleagues. Matza figured out that the man must have been the leader of this squad.

"We'll deal with this. If you want to help, be ready with some White Magic, if you know any. I take it you do?" Matza laughed, despite the situation. The lack of sleep made him feel light-headed. He attached his Shuriken to his back, and released the straps on his leg that held his staff in place. He held the magic channelling device in his right hand, his left hand pointing at the spawn as he dragged his right foot back to take up a defensive position.

"Of course, what sort of Summoner do you think I am? Wait, don't answer that, I don't need any more of your opinions. And I'll be happy to play support until you guys screw up!" Beclem cackled loudly at Matza's words, before getting into an attack position, his sword pointing towards the Sinspawn, trained on it. It was a long sword, not curved at the end like some of those in Spira, but the blades on both edges looked wickedly sharp. It was more hefty than those of the other crusaders but similar in make. Perhaps Beclem was just stronger. He motioned with his left hand, and leapt forward, bringing his sword down on the creature. It howled in pain as the blade dug in, and as the other Crusaders struck at it with their swords. Then Matza saw the creature's response. It moved back surprisingly quickly, away from the blows that were being rained down upon it. The tentacles surrounding its gaping maw fidgeted horribly, and the Summoner suddenly felt magic begin to charge in the air. "Be careful! Magic attack!"

Sure enough, powerful gravity magic filled the air around the crusaders, causing them all to be thrown back, except Beclem, who merely winced and grunted. He jumped back, and raised his sword, the sickly black blood from the spawn oozing down towards the hilt. "Matza! See to the others! I can't take this thing for long!" Matza didn't feel like disobeying the man's orders for now, especially as he saw how some of the men were hurt. They would not see the Farplane yet, not on his watch. He channelled a powerful Cura spell, and tried to spread it out over the four men down. They soon rose up, groggy, but seemingly okay. Beclem meanwhile was still weaving about, jabbing with his sword whenever the creature wasn't shooting balls of gravity magic at him. He had to do a lot of weaving. Though the beast appeared cumbersome, its magic was charging fast, and Beclem had to constantly dodge attack after attack.

Matza saw that it would be a while before the other crusaders recovered enough to rejoin the fight. He knew he had to make a split second decision. He couldn't use magic to support the batting Crusader, as he didn't want to risk hitting him. He made up his mind, and reattached his staff to his leg. With that, he ran forward, drawing his Shuriken, and slicing the beast on its 'body'. It roared in pain, and tried to rush him. He was easily able to jump to one side, and allow Beclem to jump over the top of him to deal another strike with his sword. Matza grinned, and charged a thunder spell. As he saw Beclem jump away, he unleashed it at close range, knocking himself as well as the creature back. He wasn't fazed however, and Beclem was even surprised to see the Summoner smiling as he flew back.

"Beclem! Move!" The Crusader didn't need to be asked twice as he began to see the air around Matza begin to glow. He ran off back towards his grounded troops, knowing a powerful Overdrive when he saw one. He swore as he retreated, hoping this attack wasn't too strong.

Matza began laughing slightly maniacally as he felt the power surge through him. He was slightly disappointed that he would be risking too many lives if he unleashed one of his more powerful overdrives...even possibly risking himself. It had been a while. But man, it felt good!

What Beclem saw made him gain a little more respect for the Yevonite, if only as a warrior. Energy began to form in Matza's hands, crackling and sparkling with pure energy. Hundreds of tiny balls of light began to appear in the air before him. Then, as they began to crackle, Matza roared, and brought his hands down, sending a powerful beam of energy and all the balls of light towards the creature at pace. They crashed into it with a sound like thunder, and then the scene was no more, as the world turned into an explosion of light. Beclem gasped and covered his eyes from the glare. When he felt safe to open his eyes again, the scene was very different.

The Sinspawn was still there, thank god, but it had stopped moving and the noises it was making were very weak. Around the Sinspawn the deck was no longer pristine, as chunks were missing, and splinters of wood littered the surface. Away from the monster, slumped against the outside of the coxswain's operating cabin, lay Matza. Beclem saw that the man's eyes were open and filled with fire, but the rest of his body looked fatigued. He guessed that the attack had taken a lot out of the man. The other crusaders were getting up and brushing themselves down, whilst also looking to Beclem for advice. Beclem merely nodded, a simple sign that they were to keep with the plan. Two of them thus ran off to go back downstairs, whilst one of the others began rummaging in a pocket on his person.

Matza noticed the Crusaders didn't continue to attack the wounded Sinspawn, and this perturbed him. He saw one of their number pull something out and stick it into the side of the spawn. It gave a loud holler, and then made no more noise as it collapsed again, all noise from it now stopped. Matza was however perturbed to see that there were no pyreflies, and the creature did not fade.

"Finish it! We cannot allow it to survive. Sin must not return here, especially not now!" he screamed, as two of the crusaders ran past him. The other two kept guard on the Sinspawn, whilst Beclem sighed and shook his head. For the first time in the admittedly short time he had known him, he saw the crusader remove his facemask. It allowed him to read his expression now that he could see the pair of hazel eyes, filled with experience and sadness. At the minute, Beclem's face was serious, almost impassive, but there was something behind it; like Beclem was struggling slightly morally.

"I'm afraid we can't. We have to keep it alive and contained."

"What?!"

"Remember that operation I told you about?" Matza nodded dumbly, shocked. "It's a part of that."

"..." Matza was stunned. Since when did keeping Sinspawn alive have any benefit? "Well...I think you can at least have the decency to tell me what the hell this operation is all about!" Beclem sighed, looking up at the clear blue sky. "Otherwise I see no reason why I shouldn't finish that thing off right now."

"I think there's one reason: you can't even stand up at the moment." Perhaps if he had been less angry and confused, Matza might have chuckled. As it was, he merely grunted in defeated acknowledgement. "I guess I do owe you for helping me out there. This whole operation is called Operation Mi'ihen. It's a collaborative effort between us Crusaders and the Al Bhed," Matza felt a look of disgust forming on his face, but Beclem, looking away now whilst explaining, didn't notice, "in an attempt to rid Spira of Sin forever. Not a bad idea right?"

"How do you plan on doing that? Even you, a hater of Yevon, should know that only a Summoner can defeat Sin. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah, that's what Yevon would have you believe, definitely. Our plan just might work though. We plan to lure Sin into the bay between the intersections of the Mushroom Rock Road and the Djose Highroad. We do that by using Sinspawn such as this," as he said that, Matza heard a quiet rumble, which turned out to be the sound of the two crusaders who had disappeared a minute ago returning with a large cage on wheels. They opened it at one end, and all four of the crusaders under Beclem's command started the task of pushing the unmoving Sinspawn into the cage, "to lure Sin into a trap. We'll be waiting for it there with some of the strongest machina weapons on the planet, courtesy of the Al-Bhed."

"Machina and Al-Bhed? Fantastic. Just great. This is going to take another few years of repentance at least. You know, I'm mad about that, but also the fact this is clearly a suicide mission! No Machina is powerful enough to defeat Sin." Beclem sighed once more, turning back to face Matza, who was beginning to climb to his feet as some of his energy returned.

"We have to try though. Imagine if we did beat Sin, for good? No more death. No more Summoners like yourself giving their lives. We may have different beliefs, but the endgame remains the same. The defeat of death. The destruction of Sin, and peace for the people. You don't need to believe in Yevon to want that."

"Yevon seems to be an issue for you? Why is that? Yevon gives us order, structure in our lives. It lays out the foundations of morality. It has been made clear that humanity as we are lack the morality that we should have. That we are too greedy, too liable to destruction. Until we learn how to control our urges for power, Sin will remain, our punishment until we atone. If you Crusaders continue with operations such as this, the hard work of all the Maesters and faithful Yevonites will be ruined by those foolish in their hope and misguided deeds."

"Oh," started Beclem, a sneer now on his face, "is that what you believe is it?

"It is, and it's what I think you should believe to, frankly." Replied Matza, now fully back on his feet, arms crossed in defiance as he protected his views.

"Then I'll tell you why I don't believe. Nobody should be told how to live their lives. Least of all by a group of old men, stuck in the past. That's where Yevon is keeping us; we will never progress in Spira with their influence making sure that new technological developments are impossible." Beclem shook his head, coughing slightly. "Also, do you really believe that everything happens because Yevon wills it? How can you possibly live like that? With Sin, Fiends, suffering and everything else that plagues Spira? What kind of deity is that? You truly believe we are being punished?" Matza nodded slowly, "Bullshit! How are we meant to atone? When does it end, if Yevon is correct? When we give up using machina for good? "

"That's a part of it, but not the only thing!"

"Oh really? Doesn't it seem...convenient...to you, that Yevon say that Sin may disappear as long as you stay faithful? Sounds like a control mechanism to me." He spat over the side of the ship, which disgusted Matza slightly. No decorum whatsoever. "Who knows what Sin is really? Is there any proof?"

"The proof should be in the Fayth! The Final Summoning, the only thing that can defeat Sin!"

"That's no proof! That's a way we can eliminate Sin for a while, but it always comes back! The Summoner themselves dies, as do most if not all of their guardians! A meaningless sacrifice, not including those summoners who perish on the way to Zanarkand. Maybe Yevon is right in saying that Sin ended the war between Zanarkand and Bevelle by destroying Zanarkand, but is that Spira's punishment, or coincidence? How do we know Sin isn't just some fucking great Fiend? Yevon has nothing concrete to convince me of anything, and I don't like the feeling of following blindly, because its then when you get lured into a trap."

With that, Beclem walked away, both men now angry. Matza was only distracted from staring a hole in the back of the retreating man by a loud clang, which turned out to be a sign that the Crusaders had finally gotten the spawn into the cage. They wheeled it away, complaining audibly, as they pulled it, presumably towards the hold. Matza guessed that they would have Chocobos to pull it when on land. Matza released his anger with a kick at the floor, creating another dent in the deck. He heard people returning to the deck now, presumably because they had been told the threat had been removed. He took that as his cue to follow the cage on wheels back downstairs, and maybe now he could have a little nap before they arrived at Luca.

When he got back to his cabin, he of course couldn't sleep. His mind was racing because of what he had just heard. A machina based operation involving the Al-Bhed. Matza had always lacked faith in the Crusaders as a unit, and now his fears were being justified. He hoped Yevon were as strict on them as they deserved. The might of Bevelle would surely not ignore this slight to their teachings and rules. A horrible thought crept into Matza's mind, and he wasn't sure where it came from. It went thus: 'I hope this does turn out to be a suicide mission...that will show them all'. He shivered slightly, not recognising such thoughts. Or at least, not in the new him...

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Next chapter: Luca! And some brief changing of the plot from the game :O See ya next time!


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